


Couldn’t Utter my Love When it Counted

by Smantsabella



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Author can't write summaries, Author uses too many commas, Ba Sing Se, Character Study, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Kinda?, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Pretty much canon - Freeform, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24701347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smantsabella/pseuds/Smantsabella
Summary: Iroh's thoughts after the death of his son and his relationship with Zuko and Azula, and how he could have changed things.
Relationships: Iroh & Lu Ten, Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	1. Lu Ten

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently rewatched ATLA now that it's on Netflix, and Iroh is probably one of my favorite characters. So I wrote this little piece for him because I feel this fandom is severely lacking in Iroh angst. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What a cruel and ironic fate. War is no place for those who wish to survive."

The man’s hands shook as he grasped the letter, its edges curling in on themselves as it slowly lighted. The tendrils of smoke floated to the top of the tent in a lazy pattern, only to go unnoticed by the distraught general. The occasional drip from his eye put out the small flames feeding off of the paper, to little avail.

* * *

_Esteemed General Iroh,_

_We regret to inform you of Crown Prince Lu Ten’s untimely death on the battlefield of Ba Sing Se. He fought valiantly and honorably. His body, unfortunately, was unable to be recovered. A crate with his belongings will be deposited at your outpost promptly by Private Huang._

_\- Lieutenant Wu_

* * *

Death was not uncommon on the battlefield. It was rare that the company went a week without losing at least one good man. Their bodies were quickly collected, if possible, only to be cremated and sent to rest honorably, with a few minutes dedicated to mourning.

However, this was not another nameless boy unfortunate enough to be sent away from home to fight a war that started long before he was born.

_This was his Lu Ten._

The royal family of the Fire Nation carried within them the blood of Agni and a seemingly hereditary emotional constipation that allowed them to rise to power and maintain it despite all odds. Woefully ( _or, as he would come to realize, thankfully_ ), Iroh had not inherited this steely resolve like the rest of his relatives.

To the casual outside observer, however, it certainly looked like it, as most men would cave under the pressure and the horrible stench of decay the 600-day siege blanketed over the camp. Not the Dragon of the West, though. Certainly not General Iroh, son of Fire Lord Azulon, and next in line for the throne.

_Yet, the pile of ashes slipping through his wrinkled and calloused fingers proved otherwise._

While he had never voiced these traitorous thoughts aloud, a part of the man withered when his son, _his poor, sweet, delicate son_ , ran up to him and informed him he had joined the army to, in his words, fight for the glory of the Fire Nation.

General Iroh had seen firsthand the destruction of war, had lived it. He’d laid the mutilated bodies of boys barely older than sixteen to rest, writing letters to their concerned mothers and fathers informing them of the tragedy. Death had become so common that, for the sake of time, the man had been forced to draft the texts beforehand, only taking time to write in the victim’s name. The majority were poor boys from farming villages, growing up forgotten on the outskirts of the Fire Nation, unwillingly forced into a narcissistic war for the sake of survival.

_What a cruel and ironic fate. War is no place for those who wish to survive._

Now, somewhere left on the battlefield was Lu Ten, an awful place for the spirit to reside. Undoubtedly, a bored Earth Kingdom soldier would come across the body, probably to tally up the number of men dead. Iroh wondered if the hypothetical soldier would see his own son, maybe, in the face of Lu Ten, so young and dying so alone and afraid, or if he’d merely glance and move on.

Iroh had wanted so badly to protect him, wanted so dearly to pull him aside, and beg him to unenlist. He could fake an injury, request a transfer, take up another royal-accepted way to spend his time. A part of the general ached when imagining how he could have prevented this. Maybe if he had been less of a coward, or if Lu Ten had been more of one.

Possibly, in another universe, Iroh would have returned from battle to the smiling face of his son, ready to spend the rest of his old life playing Pai sho and drinking tea as Fire Lord. _Maybe, that traitorous part of him murmured, you can prevent any more useless deaths by ending this war._

Yet, in this reality, he was leaving Ba Sing Se after 600 unsuccessful days. He would return home with honor, faced with unwavering support after such a taxing and well-fought siege. There, he would find a dead father, a missing sister-in-law, and a power-hungry brother newly turned Fire Lord and a lack of the one thing that brought him happiness. _They don’t understand._

He brushed the ashes from his lap and stood.


	2. Azula

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His smile, which had grown so twisted and manipulative over the years, seemed almost genuine as he looked down at the baby.

Iroh noticed the gleam in the small child’s eyes almost immediately after she opened them. How could he not, when it reminded him so much of his sadistic older brother?

His first visit with the girl, _Princess Azula_ , occurred immediately after her presentation to the Fire Sages and the nobles of the Fire Nation, as is tradition. The evening had been a large and grandiose celebration, very typical of his brother, so Iroh allowed the new parents time to introduce the baby and exchange formalities before he made his way over to the bassinet.

As he patiently waited, his mind couldn’t help but stray back to the night of his nephew's introduction to the Fire Nation. One would assume that any new parent, especially one whose son was of such noble lineage, would be ecstatic at the birth of a child.

Ozai seemed the opposite.

Of course, he wouldn’t dare express his displeasure so brazenly to the public, lest anyone think he could have sired something that could cause such disappointment.

But Iroh knew better. They were brothers, after all. He had noticed the crease in his little brother’s eyebrows every time the festivities slowed, and his mask could drop, or how he preferred to flit through the crowd rather than stay by the side of his wife and firstborn son.

At the time, rather than think ill of Ozai _(what a mistake that was)_ , Iroh chalked up his brother’s strange attitude to the jitters expressed by most first time fathers, and his urge to impress.

Now, Ozai stood proudly at the head of the bassinet, where he had been all night, boasting loudly to anyone in the vicinity of how little Azula coughed out sparks immediately after her birth. His smile, which had grown so twisted and manipulative over the years, seemed almost genuine as he looked down at the baby.

* * *

Iroh knew firsthand of his brother’s more unsavory attitude and penchant for violence, so he was wary of the two children turning out like their father. He dared to hope that perhaps Ursa’s lineage and caring presence would sway Azula and Zuko away from the dark path Ozai had taken.

And for the first few years, Iroh remained hopeful. At least, until the princess started firebending.

She was still too young, much to her and Ozai’s chagrin, to begin formal training. So, she spent the majority of her time in the royal gardens wreaking havoc on nature and the helpless servants, only to be encouraged by Ozai. Iroh often received letters from Ursa while on the frontlines of his military conquests, only to be regaled with tales of Azula’s misadventures. He had learned that along with the destruction of toys, pottery, and undesired clothing, there were quite a few turtleducks sacrificed to her anger as well.

A part of the aging Dragon of the West wondered if his presence at the palace could have helped steer the young princess in a better direction. He was no saint, evidenced by his role in the war, but even he had spent the better parts of his life attempting to uphold peace. His brother, unfortunately, could not say the same.

It was cruel to entrust the purity and moral upbringing of two rambunctious children to only one woman, after all.

Maybe if he had invited the young girl to meditate or paid her more mind during her upbringing, she could have been influenced by something other than the fear and fury that blanketed the palace, entrapping those inside to suffer its wrath.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment, leave kudos, etc :) it feeds this author's soul <3


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